In 2016, if it wasn’t posted, it never happened. College fests were live-streamed. Birthday surprises went on “Live” before the candles were blown out. Your Instagram grid was your personality; your Facebook wall was a public record of your life. You shared your BKK haul, late-night rant, even the waiter pouring soup into your bowl. The audience was immediate; the validation (likes, follows, comments) was instant. To be visible was to be relevant. Now, it’s like the film about your life suddenly put up a firewall.
The main feed is quieter. #LaterGram buys distance. Stories are shared only on Close Friends lists. #IYKYK keeps the context coded. We’re not even tagging people visibly. Real life, real chaos has moved to Finstas (smaller, more curated VIP rooms) and tight-knit subscriber-only groups.
We’re finally admitting that oversharing, in real-time, to everyone, is exhausting. “The shift is largely driven by visibility fatigue,” says Dr Rimpa Sarkar, director of Sentier Wellness, Mumbai. “Being constantly observed, compared, and evaluated creates pressure to maintain a persona. Many young people are recognising the emotional labour involved and are moving toward spaces that feel safer, more controlled and less overwhelming,” says Sarkar. Continuous self-monitoring contributes to anxiety, decision fatigue, identity strain, and emotional exhaustion, and it shifts attention from experiencing life to managing perception, she adds.
Divija Bhasin, counselling psychologist and founder of The Friendly Couch, believes that we’re rethinking our curation as we share. Young people tend to “value the validation of people they consider closer rather than acquaintances,” she says. And honestly, who wants to explain themselves to every troll in the comments?
Limiting how the world views your life is a form of boundary-setting. “It can also reflect burnout from continuous self-presentation and algorithmic pressure,” Sarkar says.
Remember when Digital Detox meant deleting all your apps and vanishing from online life? That was half a decade ago. The new formula, according to the 2025 GWI Youth Culture Report, is to filter and funnel. In the report, 57% of Gen Z say they are more authentic in Close Friends stories than on their main accounts. We still want to be seen, but on our own terms.
About 63% of Gen Z say they feel safer on platforms that let them set content limits or restrict specific viewers, according to the 2025 GWI Q2 Youth Behaviour Report. But can curated privacy foster authentic connections, or does it risk another filtered self? It can do both, Sarkar hopes. “Curated privacy can create emotional safety and genuine connection, but it can also become a subtler version of impression management if authenticity is still driven by audience response.”
If social media feels draining, step back, says Bhasin. “As a therapist, I recommend reducing your social media usage little by little, instead of trying to do a full detox by deleting all the apps.” Doomscrolling is real. So is brainrot. So is the AI bot with a private account and 53 followers, commenting with a contrary view under your every Reel.
The internet’s flaws are not the individual’s concern. So the shift of ‘quiet-quitting’ social media (viewing less, sharing less, engaging less) does reflect a healthier desire for boundaries. It is also an evolution of digital performance rather than its disappearance, says Sarkar. “The long-term outcome depends on whether privacy is used for self-connection or continued self-presentation.” Maybe the new rebellion isn’t logging off. It’s logging out of constant online performance. Not everything needs to be live on the grid, and not every moment needs an audience. Pulling back, even slightly, can feel like reclaiming a boundary.
From HT Brunch, March 21, 2026
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